


our paths had been forged long before we were born

by bulut



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - War, Angst, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Trace amounts of fluff, Wordcount: 1.000-5.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-18
Updated: 2020-09-18
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:46:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26534569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bulut/pseuds/bulut
Summary: He'll be gone by dawn, nothing left behind but his scent on his pillow.
Relationships: Azumane Asahi/Kageyama Tobio
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	our paths had been forged long before we were born

**Author's Note:**

> blessed song, started playing in my head as soon as i started writing: [nouvelle vague - don't go](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=waz5C7tKQ0U)

_Do you have to go?_

_I do._

_Will you come back?_

_I will. One way or another._

_You know I want you back in one way only._

_I know._

When the war comes, it comes bearing ghosts to trade for living, breathing bodies. Those are the times when fresh blood is the most prized currency.

“One man per household,” they say. Tobio blanches.

“One man per household is allowed to stay behind.”

All energy whooshing out of his body, he collapses on the floor by the radio in a heap.

He can stay behind for his mother and sister. He can stay behind for Shouyou’s. He can stay behind and watch as others are torn apart from their mothers’ bosoms.

He can stay behind.

_Don’t go just yet._

_Are you planning never to let me go?_

_Maybe._

_They would pry me out of your hands._

_Let them._

_They would break your fingers. I can’t bear that._

Asahi comes knocking on his window at the witching hour.

The quiet is like a quilt draped over them. Not caring to break the spell, they greet each other with their bodies. What they want to say streams from mouth to mouth.

Tobio’s futon is spacious, littered with popped seams from when he and Shouyou used to share. The duvet is yellowed, flattened, the mattress coarse from wear. It’s a familiar sensation to have his back to it, his lover’s burly body hovering over him, now sinking, now flush against his chest. Hands on arms, lips on necks, intermingling breaths; now the night has warmed up.

Tobio flattens his palms against planes, commits to memory the composition of skin and body hair that will soon be taken from under his hands. Fresh blood is the most prized currency, and lowly subjects like himself can never have it. There, it belonged to you, now, say goodbye.

_Do that again._

_This?_

_Yes, yes, that._

_How about this?_

_Ooh, that too._

_You’re enjoying yourself, huh._

Having his ass squeezed is one of Tobio’s favourite activities, and once Asahi’s gone, there will be nobody left who knows about it.

“Asahi,” he whines, cupping his hand over Asahi’s to get the other man to apply more strength.

“We’re impatient tonight,” Asahi remarks, unfazed as if he’s talking about the morning news.

“Aren’t they going to take you tomorrow?”

“Yes?”

“Hurry up and fuck me, then, oh my God,” Tobio hisses, and claims Asahi’s mouth.

When two generations share the same house, everybody learns to be quiet when they make love. Tobio’s pants and moans are swallowed up by Asahi, the greediest creature when the situation calls for it, and Asahi himself is naturally silent in bed. They suit each other. Rephrasing, Tobio wears Asahi like a nightshirt. He has two hands and a mouth exactly he wants them, has his on the exact spots he craves; he’s an unabashed pillow princess.

“I’ll, I’ll,” he stammers at the peak of his pleasure, “I’ll go insane if you’re not here.”

Asahi grunts. “If you just need a fuck—” he’s cut off by a rare moan, “I’m sure you’ll find one.”

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

None of them can articulate further thoughts than that. There are more urgent matters to take care of.

_You’re mad._

_I’m not._

_Tobio, why are you mad?_

_I’m not!_

_You’re snapping at me._

_Because you’re being unreasonable!_

What is this misdirected anger? What is this rage thrumming in his veins, what is this lust for revenge in his vice-like grip on Asahi’s ass, what is this haze in his mind shooting down thoughts one by one until he can’t find any words he wants to say to a lover who will leave for the battlefield in the wee hours of the morning?

“They’ll take me,” Asahi’d said. “But I’ll never actually leave this place, leave this spot by your side.”

“What good is it to me if I can’t find you there when I reach out?” Tobio wants to cry out.

When Asahi pulls his head back by the hair, straining his neck just short of hurting, that’s a lover’s vexation. When Tobio grabs him by the arm and makes him pull harder, though, when he slams himself down on Asahi’s cock, swallowing his own moans to deny Asahi their taste, that’s more than vexation. That’s a full-blown lover’s quarrel.

Lovers, lovers.

They both want to scream their throats raw, growl their teeth out. They want to shake sense into one another, because what’s this venom when they should be caressing instead, but there’s so much anger. They need to fuck it out if they want their bittersweet farewell at the end.

There are no bedsprings to creak or headboards to thump the wall, but the futon _poof_ , _poof_ , _poof_ s, echoing in the silent room, most likely thudding a dull rhythm through the walls. He wants to care, but Asahi takes his mouth, fingers finding nipples, and now he can’t even if he wanted to.

“You’ll,” Tobio gasps, “come back.” It’s an order.

Asahi doesn’t say yes, but does pull Tobio flush against his chest, legs tightening around each other, and Tobio can’t tell himself apart from Asahi anymore.

_Leave your shirt here._

_You want me to go back topless?_

_Yes. There won’t be any time for consequences, will there?_

_You make a good point. I brought another thing to give you, though._

_Leave the both of them, what’s stopping you?_

_You’re right. Nothing._

Asahi’s fingers card through his hair as they grind against each other, movements low in intensity but hearts beating a mile a minute.

“Easy there,” Asahi laughs when Tobio’s hands slide out from under him, sending him crashing into Asahi’s chest. He slides an arm over Tobio’s waist and twists them around until their positions are reversed.

With that, he has the reins of their shared pleasure. The character of the entire act changes in the gentleness of his hips as if he’s coaxing Tobio’s orgasm out of him, unlike Tobio’s insistent tugging at seams until both of them come apart. He plants kisses across Tobio’s chest as Tobio is uncapable of doing anything but writhing on the mattress, back arching, torso convulsing.

Now, this is how they’ve always been. They dry hump in metaphors.

Incredulously enough, Tobio laughs as he comes.

_What are you grinning for?_

_You laughed when you came._

_What of it?_

_I made you laugh as you came, Tobio. You laughed for me. I’m the luckiest man on Earth._

_…_

_Come on, do you still get embarrassed when I’m mushy?_

The simmering fury boils away in its entirety, the silt left behind filling the minimal spaces between them with its soft sand.

Tobio sucks Asahi and there’s the same roaring dragon in his stomach from the times before. Only when he has Asahi in his mouth comes this dragon, different than the others, reserved for his bobbing head and semen dissolving in spit.

In the morning, after Asahi’s gone, and all the mornings following, his mouth will be lonely, perpetually empty. Only Asahi knows this other favourite activity of his, having Asahi in his mouth, and when he’s gone, only the walls will remain privy to the secret. Tobio goes all out; now the pillow princess is Asahi, Tobio’s mouth on his cock one moment, his ass the next, his head on Asahi’s shoulder, hands all over, sweet nothings in his ear.

“I’ll be waiting,” he pants. “Your brother. Natsu.”

Asahi’s hands on his waist tighten as he struggles to regulate Tobio’s pace to his liking.

“We’ll,” they lock mouths when they feel groans rising in their chests, “we’ll tell them.”

It’s elating even if it’s just a daydream.

We’ll tell them.

_You’re leaving your watch to me?_

_What merit is there to know the time on the battlefield?_

_You could count the hours until you come back to me._

_I’ll have the sun and the moon for that._

_And of course…_

_I can only see the sky if I’m on the correct side of the ground._

Dried sweat draws chill from the air. They’re nestled in the futon, most likely popping new seams.

“You didn’t get any sleep,” Tobio observes, voice groggy, soporific fingers braiding Asahi’s hair. He gets no answer but soft breaths and a steady heartbeat.

He nuzzles Asahi’s hair, mumbling “You’ll come back,” as if to instill a polished survival instinct into him. There’s no guarantee that there will be a back, no guarantee that Tobio won’t be conscripted soon after, but that’s a thought to be banished. There’s no place for preemptive worry when his lover’s departure is due an hour later.

Asahi’s watch _tick_ - _tock_ s. As the claws of sorrow, pitiless, relentless, rip apart his throat from the inside, no blood comes out, but when, despite everything, he closes his eyes against the musky smell of his lover, no tears come out to stain the half-ghost smile on his lips, either.

_I’ll teach Akise in your place._

_Okay._

_I’ll sew pillowcases for our home with Natsu._

_Okay._

_You’ll come back, okay?_

_Okay._

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading.


End file.
